Heal, My Soul: A Bleach Tetralogy (Hiatus)
by Shrapnel893
Summary: The world is full of both the living and the dead. Senjumaru Shutara has been monitoring a promising individual with unusual spiritual energy since their birth, and, with time, hopes to harness this power for herself, no matter the means or how long it takes—through who or what. Intertwined are many heroes and villains; the living and the dead. Cracked souls and splintered hearts.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Heal, My Soul: A Bleach Tetralogy Part 1: Rise, My Blood

**Pairings:** Multiple

**Rating:** Teen (T)

**Warning(s):** Coarse Language and Mild Depictions of Violence, Character Death

**Recommended Font/Page Layout:** Ubuntu, 1/2, Expand, Light Story Contrast

**Overall Song Choice:** _Blood On My Hands_ by The Used_  
_

**Alternative Song Choice(s):** N/A

**Author's Note:** Rated Teen because of source material, deviates from canon, has original characters and altered canonical personalities of (some) canon characters, references to Chinese and Japanese Mythology and historical figures

**Full Synopsis:**

**Part I: Rise, My Blood**

_Yachiru Unohana is the only captain of the Gotei 13 without a 2nd or 3rd seat. She views any potential candidates as weaklings, until a boy with a resonating spiritual presence is made known to her. Yet, this boy induces memories of a past best left buried and, in order to stay who she is rather than who she was, she must end his existence before it's too late._

Read and review, but most of all enjoy.

* * *

**Ø. Desire**

Wisps of steam rising from the pool of boiling water she stood over, Unohana ran a fingernail down the scar on her chest. Long since healed, having become a part of her flesh again, its crimson cut was now pale and puffing outwards. Like a worm stuck underneath her skin, embedding itself inside her chest, it writhed. Sunken in, slightly. Stinging still, greatly. Stroking it, she watched the bubbles in the pool pop and fizz, the carcass of a dead animal partially submerged. Partially decayed.

The way the fumes destroyed the skin, dissolved the muscle, and bleached the bone. It filled her with a yearning, a certain lust that could only be quenched with spraying blood and flayed limbs. A feeling that made her heart pound and scar itch; something that only the thrill of fighting could mend. Minazuki felt restless at her hip, hissing a want for the crossing of blades with another of its kind.

She turned from the pool then. If only the rest of them were still alive, or that boy was still rampaging around the forests of Rokungai, she could've had a bit of fun. A way for her to unleash this desire that was eating away at her senses from the inside, kept at bay by time. After she'd defeated the majority of the warriors from the forests, he'd told her not to cause anymore unnecessary bloodshed. To focus only on training the next generations of "Soul Reapers" and guarantee that the Soul Society would continue well past its expiration date. Given how ancient the Soul Society was already, that date was more than a long ways off. It irritated her, but she knew his words were the right course of action. There was no one left to face off against, after all.

Perhaps that was why the others had died, because they had became so starved from not rending flesh and breaking bone that they'd succumbed to their hunger. It'd consumed them like the pool was consuming the dead animal's carcass.

She was now the only one of the original thirteen left besides the old man himself. That realization alone, she knew, was enough to have to agree with the old man and carry out his wishes. To continue on as a high ranking member of what he now called the "Gotei 13". Not just a member of a group of thirteen warriors with followers any longer, but now as a captain of her own division in a new militaristic system. The 11th Division, as he'd called it. In that short amount of time he'd gathered the thirteen of them to quell the worst of the violence in Rokungai, he'd created this whole new hierarchy within the Soul Society.

Besides her division, the old man had created twelve others from one to thirteen, with himself being the captain of the 1st Division. Each division had twenty seats, with captains being the first seat. The second seat belonged to their vice-captain, while the third, fourth, and fifth seats were reserved for members of a lesser high ranking. Everything after these first five seats were nothing but placeholders; ones that could change hands daily as they were based on an individual's ability to climb through the ranks. Which was why she felt as if she'd find the most enjoyment in watching those seats; numbers six to twenty.

To put more true to the matter was that it didn't change the way she felt deep down. That hunger would always be there, no matter what was used as an excuse to seal it away. Even the hope of peace. The only thing that would satiate that hunger would be she and Minazuki doing battle with an equal again, but so far that wish of hers was on hold. Which reminded her, the only divisions that didn't have a vice-captain was her own; the remaining eleven all had theirs, if she recalled correctly. She'd have to find one, it seemed.

Casting her gaze in the direction of the academy he'd built not long before they'd first met, she wondered what types of warriors were to come out of its walls this time. So far, the only ones that had were all too weak to be considered decent. Not even one among them skilled enough for a third seat in her division. Which, again, reminded her; she'd also have to find a Soul Reaper fit enough for third seat, as well. The old man's two protégés, the sickly one and that oaf who was too lazy for his own good, they had been two of the first to graduate from that academy of his. He'd pampered them like small children, praising them both as his "pride and joy". They'd also been the first two to become captains after graduating. Both of them had accepted weaklings as their second and third seats, but she wouldn't settle for that. She _couldn't_ settle for that.

Only a warrior equal to her own strength was worthy enough for the position of the 11th Division's second seat, and only someone of lesser but still worthy strength was to be her third seat.

The desire that resided inside every fiber of her being and was waiting for the moment come spewing forth, she felt these two seats were the key to helping her let off some steam of her own.


	2. Chapter 2

**|. Hate**

"Oh… I see… and these readings are from whom?" Sitting on her throne made of bleach-white wood, hand under chin, and one leg over the other, Senjumaru went from the scroll in her hand to the messenger bowing his head at the bottom-most step.

"A young Soul Reaper from Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's academy in the Seireitai."

Rolling the scroll back up, she held it out for the messenger to take. Dismissing him after, she got up from her throne and looked around her throne room. She couldn't contain her excitement; something had to be done. His spiritual energy was just right, but not ripe enough. Not yet. One of the many skeletal arms protruding from her backside bending around to the front, she took a piece of Ōken from its macabre palm and held it to the light.

She had to get to work constructing a garb for this... promising subject. Pulling a strand of hair from her head, she turned back to her throne. Behind it, her workshop. Given how much potentiality this young Soul Reaper had, it'd take her many days to construct something durable enough.

With that in mind, and given that his spiritual energy wasn't to her liking just yet, it had to be usable for any potential carriers of his lineage. And, sighing to herself, she hoped the burning presence she felt down in the Soul Society wouldn't kill him before she had a chance to make use of him yet.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

Standing on the edge of one of the many academy practice fields, watching the students do mock-duels with one another, Unohana curled the hand closest to her Zanpakutō. Minazuki's hissing had grown in volume as she'd walked the halls of the academy, increasing until she came upon this practice field in particular. A hunger had called Minazuki here, her sword wanting to do battle with whoever it'd sensed. Yet, as she continued to look upon the amateurish crossing of blades between the students, she was starting to have doubts that her sword had sensed anything at all and was just deprived of battle so much that it'd stoop so low as to cross blades with anyone it could find. Weaklings, of all.

Following the movements of one student in particular, she thought then that if that was really the intention of her Zanpakutō, then it'd be content leading her to one of the more unruly parts of Rokungai. Where fighting was still being done and competent warriors were still crossing swords. Instead, it'd led her here, and there was only one reason she could think of…

The student she'd been eyeing all this time, his blade was fluid in its strikes, yet reckless with its parries. His style of swordsmanship reminded her of her own, back when she was younger. A long, long time ago. This boy must have been what Minazuki had sensed, had hungered for. A lustful smile crept to the edge of her lips, as the boy knocked down his opponent and held his blade at his throat, being told by the instructor to end the match. It sank back to a slight frown as she watched him help the other boy up, not the least bit of hostility or malice behind his eyes or—she now realized—his actions. His style of swordsmanship was similar to that of her younger self, and yet it was more tempered, missing even the slightest hint of anger. Of rage.

How much she disliked him then.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

"You must be talking about Jitsushima." The instructor for the class wrinkled his nose as he went to the class roster. "A very promising student."

Unohana looked away from him, eyes on the practice field and the spot where the boy's spiritual presence had been. She could still feel it, faintly. Whispering to her. She noticed the man still wasn't looking at her, even as he looked up from his parchment. Even when it seemed he was staring directly at her, she could tell it was at something beyond. Anywhere, so as long as he didn't have to meet her eyes.

"Are you asking about him for a specific reason? As the lead instructor for the advanced placement Kendō, do you mean to put him in your class?"

When she turned to him, his eyes seemed to leap back in fright. "In time, perhaps. For now, I would like to observe his progress whenever you and your class practice."

"Anything, anything!" He hunched down slightly, not so much in fear but as to shield himself from her gaze.

Going back to the spot, she could see his phantom. Like a shadow of the past, yet brighter than hers ever had been. She wondered what kind of man he would turn out to be, when he shed his existence as a boy once and for all. Thinking of him brought up memories of her own life that she was better to leave buried and—before realizing it—her fingernails her digging into the palm of her hand so hard, blood was forming into tiny pool at her feet. The instructor was also seated a few more hairs further away from her than before. Eyes downcast upon her bloody palm, her lustful smile returned. This boy was someone that could induce such a reaction from her, and thus, was something she couldn't stand, could hate with every fiber of her being and, as Minazuki responded to her hatred, singing the song of death, was something she wanted to meet the most.

Outside the dormitory where he and his other male classmates stayed, she heard Minazuki at her hip, calling out to her. Telling her that this boy was inside, no doubt resting from the day's lessons. Waiting, anticipating, she watched a silhouette come to the door, sliding it open to reveal a rather unpleasant looking domesticated animal, his student uniform stretched uncomfortably over his large frame. The look on his face, upon seeing her, was similar to that of a cow's when it knew its fate at the hands of a butcher. Then, it changed to one of indifference, as if it'd taken one look at the butcher and went back to chewing grass.

"Can I help you?" From the tone of his voice, he didn't seem to know who she was, or, rather, he didn't have enough space within his skull to process it while speaking. It was beyond his capacity.

"Jitsushima."

The cow scratched his head, "You mean Jun? You're looking for Jun, right?" Before she could answer, he turned and yelled for this "Jun", saying that a "creepily attractive escort" was here for him. Then, his attention went back to her. "He'll be comin' any minute now, yessir. I mean ma'am… yesma'am."

If she wasn't under oath to protect the students of the academy, then she'd have ripped this cow's idiotic mouth from him, leaving a gaping, bloody hole where it once resided on his face. Then, after that, she'd gouge out his eyes and take his tongue. If only she was allowed. After wasted time waiting, both the blank stare he was giving her and the annoyed glare she had pointed at him, were redirected at the boy swiftly approaching them, a smile on his face. It was bright, like the sun. Warm, like the heat from a fire.

As he came yet closer, she took note of the way his hair parted; heavier on the right side than the left, somewhat curled down to the middle of his forehead. Eyes; very slightly rounded. Nose; straight. He wore square-rimmed glasses, which she hadn't seen when he'd been practicing. She summarized that he'd just come from studying and didn't normally wear them. Based on the way he walked, his stance, the boy must've had a militaristic upbringing, and she wondered then if he'd been some type of warrior-in-training before becoming a spirit. Right now, he looked like a studious scholar, having just spent a considerable amount of time pouring over ancient stone tablets. When he was an appropriate distance from her, he looked at the other boy who looked like a cow.

"Thank you, Rokuro. I'll handle things from here."

"Whatever you say… Be back at the table when you're done, alright?" Rokuro, cow-boy, left them alone with a nonchalant stride, surprisingly light of his feet considering his size.

The boy watched him go, then turned his attention to her, "I'm Jun Jitsushima, please pardon my friend, he's a little—" He seemed to analyze her then, eyes going to her Zanpakutō briefly, then back to her face with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to act so casual towards you, Captain Unohana—! Outside of your uniform, you look so... traditional… but I-I like it, it's a nice look! I mean, no, that's—!"

"Is that how you see me?" Her voice held a touch of curiosity, and she quickly snuffed it out with her next inquiry. "Jun Jitsushima, I need to speak with you. Accompany me for a moment."

"Yes, ma'am." Red-faced and sweating from his embarrassment, from the corner of her eye she watched him hastily follow her down the hall, towards one of the many gardens within the academy.

Usually places of rest for many students during the day, at night the gardens were empty and quiet. Serene and peaceful. Unohana stood underneath a moss covered tree, its branches seeming to reach towards the sky and grasping at the stars in the gloom. Of all the places inside the academy, this spot in particular was where she felt the most comfortable, if only for a few fleeting moments. Her still gaze on him, she thought she saw Sūn Wǔ in his place for a second. A second only—and then it was gone.

"Jun Jitsushima..." she let a moment pass, "I wanted to inform you that I've seen how skilled you are with Kendō and would like to put you into my class."

"Advanced placement Kendō?" He blinked. "I'm honored, Captain Unohana…"

"In a few weeks' time I will have the necessary paperwork and approvals for your transfer, so be ready by then."

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

Her business done, Unohana told the boy to make haste back to his dormitory, watching him go. Minazuki had been practically shaking with hunger every second he'd been with her. This Jun Jitsushima, after sometime in her advanced placement class, she'd know once and for all if he was her vice-captain or just another weakling like the rest of them.

How he measured up against her in strength, she'd have to find out directly with the crossing of blades. If he was indeed worthy, he'd survive. If he was not, he'd die. Either way, she wanted to utterly destroy him. All that he was, everything that made him up, and whatever he aspired to be, for making her feel the way she did. Like she was the cold wind on a winter's night and he a recently lit lantern that's flame was already pushing it back, heating it up and cooling it down. Making it bearable and filling her with a feeling she'd thought discarded long ago. All of that just from the way he moved his sword back then.

And, she hated him for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**||. Blade**

"Today we are going to start with concentrating the release of your spiritual pressure around your blade, creating a sharper Asauchi that can cut even finer than when it was first created." Unsheathing her Zanpakutō, Unohana held it out two-handed and demonstrated the technique. "Once you've mastered this, you can cut through virtually anything." Spinning around, she sliced a series of dummies, each with a different material pinned to them. From the weakest to the very strongest, all were cleanly halved. She sheathed her Zanpakutō and faced her students again. "This is what you can achieve." The majority of their faces lit up, especially Jitsushima, who was isolated from the rest of them like a disease nobody wanted to catch. "But, if you don't do it correctly, the concentrated spiritual pressure with sear your hands and render them useless."

Looking at her students now, their hopes of achieving the next step in their training downtrodden by her words, she smiled. None of them were yet adapt in controlling their spiritual pressure, and the searing of their hands was enough to put them out for a matter of weeks. With the class not stopping for a few charred appendages, they'd be left behind and in a rush to catch-up. As she told them to get started, her eyes immediately focused on the boy holding his Asauchi. Jitsushima was intensely staring at it, no doubt unsure of how to mold his spiritual pressure over something as thin as his blade. Next to him, her best student—in the batch of weaklings that they were—was slowly getting the hang of it.

Her spiritual pressure, a very pale green, burst its way up the blade, forming more of a flame around it than a thin layer. Spiritual pressure represented the individual's own will and inner being, and a flame was the representation of rage and anger. Impatience. Holding her blade in the air, she moved away from the others and swung it at a dummy, obliterating it rather than cleanly slicing through.

Unohana chuckled and went back to Jitsushima, who was watching the girl. His Asauchi was now sheathed, a concerned look on his features. Approaching her best student and waiting until she was done hacking away at the dummies, he started a conversation. He seemed to be explaining something to her about her spiritual pressure, the explanation having some effect on the girl as she blushed and stared at her Asauchi. He said something else and she nodded, a moment later her spiritual pressure retreating back from the blade, then coming back up in a thick layer that wasn't correct, but also wasn't against what she'd demonstrated for them earlier. It was still thin enough to cut cleanly, and because of its added thickness it could create wider gaps when it sliced.

This boy… just what exactly had he told her? Was he already skilled enough with controlling his spiritual pressure to instruct others or was it something else? Minazuki hissed and she put her hand on the end of its hilt. Her smile twitched.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

In the evening after her class was finished, Unohana came to the girls' dormitory and let herself inside, searching around for the girl Jitsushima had helped. Turning heads by how aimless her search was, she had a ping of regret at not learning even her best student's name, only memorizing the way she swung her Asauchi and that obnoxiously oversized hairpin she wore to keep her hair in a bun; the way it folded and twisted into a pattern like something on a woven tapestry that made her cringe whenever she saw it.

When she did manage to stumble upon the girl after wasting an hour of her time, her hair was resting gently on her shoulders. The hairpin was lying on a desk, and Unohana assumed she only wore it up during class. In her presence, the girl's stance was rigid, her stare unblinking. Like she was a vassal waiting upon her lord to speak. With a slight tilt of the head, Unohana stared at her for a moment more. The girl… with more grasp on her techniques, could be worthy enough for the third seat. As she was now, her talent was barely enough for fifth. "Student…" She paused.

"S-Shan, ma'am."

"I want you to tell me what Jitsushima spoke with you about during class earlier this morning."

"Well…" her face turned a bit red from remembering the conversation, "he told me that my release of spiritual pressure was like the flame from a candle. That because of my… inner beauty… it was so large."

"And? How were you able to even it out? What did he say to you?"

"To… just relax…" Her eyes went to the side briefly, and Unohana took note of her Asauchi propped against the same desk her hairpin was on. "To think of something that would keep me calm and be able to shape it around the blade."

She nodded slowly. "I… see…" Turning to leave, she halted after a few steps. "You've improved. Keep at the pace you're going and you'll master my class in due time."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank-you, ma'am!" From the corner of her eye, Unohana saw the girl bow deeply.

Closing the sliding door to the girls' dormitory and walking down the hall, Unohana kept her hand on the hilt of her Zanpakutō, thumbing it out and back down. They itched. Her fingers itched for what talent this boy possessed, and, that girl… she was likely to try even harder now that she'd been given praise. As much as it disgusted her to do so, she couldn't deny the hard work of an individual, no matter if they received help or not.

Rounding the corner, she headed for the practice field, curiosity getting the better of her. Nobody was around and she went up to the dummies her students had practiced with, finding the one Jitsushima had sliced at. The cuts were too shallow and didn't penetrate through even the weakest of the materials pinned to the dummies. Yet, as she inspected them closer, found that the blade had expanded as it cut deeper into them, like a wedge. Stepping back from the dummies, she flexed her fingers and laughed. Concentrated destruction. Something she's never seen before… or… no, something she'd never experienced herself. Her laughter turning sour, as well as her expression, she rendered the dummies to pieces with one swipe of her Zanpakutō.

"C-Captain Unohana…?" It was the boy. "Are you alright?" He was standing by one of the wooden support beams, having come from the opposite direction she'd used; the way from the garden she'd led him to weeks earlier.

Her Zanpakutō still at her side, she turned to him with hostility. "How I am feeling is none of your concern." Staring back down at the dummies, she released some of her spiritual pressure, creating a shockwave that sent them flying and pushed him back. Calming herself then, she put away her blade.

"Captain Unohana… are you sure you're—?"

"I'm fine!" she said with more force than she would have liked to reveal, glaring at him. "In two months, I will be putting together a practice exercise into the human world. Make sure you're ready for it." Without waiting for a response, her footsteps stomping hard on the wooden floor of the hallway, Unohana left the boy standing alone on the practice field.

While in the human world, she'd make it look like he'd have an accident against a group of Hollows. There wouldn't be anything to explain and nobody would go against her if they dared value their life. His end would be swift and without trouble. Biting on the bottom of her lip, ripping into her skin, trickling blood, she had to bury him or his very presence would be enough to dredge up that which she wanted to stay dead. Those feelings. She couldn't allow them to rise to the surface. Even if he was a potential candidate as her second seat, he had to die.

At any cost.


	4. Chapter 4

**|||. Warmth**

Concerning Hollows.

_Hollows, corrupted souls that devour both the living and the dead. Born when the soul of the departed is rife with angst and grieve that it once held onto in life, these negative feelings then grow and wrap around the soul's spiritual heart, blackening it. The heart crumbles after this blackening, the center of the soul's chest rotting away, and the pieces drifting away like ash in the wind. These ashes become the pyre that is to be their new existence as a monster; one that is driven by an insatiable hunger, mindless and without regard for who or what it devours. To a Hollow, a soul is a soul—and a soul is that which must fill the void in its chest. The shadows of their former selves; their human hearts._

_A Hollow can be identified by the mask it wears, which is what its crumbled heart becomes after losing out to despair. This mask hides the original identity of the soul, being a manifestation of all the desires and dark secrets it could never show. Buried deep in the soul's being, these horrors are brought out by this mask, giving it shape and form. The masks differ between Hollows, but all of them are white and skull-like. _

_Most Hollows are twice as large as humans, but some can be as small as common domesticated animals or as large as the tallest monument. Their appearances are vastly diverse, ranging from what can be considered normal proportionality to grotesquely disproportionate. They can be covered in fur or be bare, have human-like characteristics or otherworldly features. The possibilities are limitless. _

Closing the book, Unohana threw it away without a second thought, thinking that the author must've been a wishful poet based on his style of writing and use of word choice. Looking at the book now lying face-down and open, its pages dirtied, she couldn't deny that it'd served some purpose in telling her more about those abominations. In truth, she could care less about them and did, but if she was going to pull her plan off she was going to need the right information for the authenticity of Jun's soon-to-be tragic death. So that not a one would question his death by Hollows.

Her attention going back to her best student, the one she'd spoken with a month prior, she tried to match her face with the name told to her. Shan. The more she tried to put the two together as one, the more she noticed that which she hadn't before. Her slender built and medium stature; brown hair tied in that obnoxious bun as she practiced. The balls of concentrated spiritual pressure that left her hands, called Hadō. A form of Kidō that specializes in offensive spells to damage the caster's target directly. Continuing to watch her from the balcony of the girl's Kidō class, she bared her teeth.

From the way the girl was systematically taking out practice dummy after practice dummy with above-average accuracy, it was clear that her skill with Kidō surpassed her skill with her Asauchi. Which, in her eyes, meant she was still a weakling just as all the rest of them. Even if the skill was Hadō, which of the three basic classifications was the one she deemed was the most useful. If one wasn't skilled in the art of swords, then they were worthless. Below her, never able to rise anywhere near her lest she swat them down. Yet, as she continued to watch, the girl was also incorporating footwork from the advanced placement Kendō classes. _Her_ classes. If nothing else, she had to praise the girl truthfully this time, for her flexibility. The way she incorporated a portion of each of her studies into everything that she did.

And, she thought, that in time, this girl would surely become worthy enough to become her third seat. Only—of course—if she polished her Kendō.

Right then, Unohana was about to take her leave when the voice of the one she loathed spoke. Jun Jitsushima had come up to the girl along with the boy who looked a cow, spilling all sorts of praise from his mouth like a jester in his majesty's court. Cow-boy just stood there, looking as much a simpleton as his appearance implied. A fragment of her time with Sūn Wǔ unexpectedly surfaced then, and she quickly tossed it away like the book.

In the coming month, she wouldn't have to put up with them anymore and, she, for what'd felt like the first time in centuries, was glad. Realizing this, she quickly snuffed the feeling out and left the balcony, disappearing down the hallway and melting into the shadows of the morning. The feeling of happiness and joy, she had no use for such feelings.

Not anymore, nor ever again.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

"This kid, what's so special about him that your hard-on is so large?" the fool quipped, chewing on the end of one of the small sticks he seemed to fancy as of late. Sitting atop her palace gates, he glared down at the Seireitei. "I mean, yeah, a macabre bitch like you could always use a test subject for your stitching, or whatever the shit it is you do, but why _that_ kid?" Spitting the small stick out, he followed its movements until it was halfway down the palace gates and cut it with a concentrated release of spiritual pressure. "He'll break before you even begin."

Senjumaru stood beside him, thinking then that the shape and length of his hair was compensating for something on a certain lower portion of his body. Why was he even her, taking up her time instead of wasting it by himself at his own palace? Of all the fellow Royal Guard members he decided to irritate with his presence, it just had to be hers. She thought about taking one of her sewing needles and stabbing his neck with it, but abandoned the idea as it'd take more than a simple needle to the throat to silence a fool like him. Instead, she looked down at the Seireitai and focused her gaze on that boy's spiritual energy, where his presence currently resided. She could feel it even from here; it was growing. Though, so was the burning presence. It wouldn't be long before whoever it was tried something, and, if she had to guess, it was that insufferable woman—_Yachiru._

The fool seemed to have sensed her too, as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Ah, I get it... you want him for his dick, that it? And the other kid, the one with the anger issues, is your dick rival?" He gave a smirk and stood to his full height—a good few heads taller than she. "Well, it looks like it was worth it, comin' here to see you..." Getting in her face, now, his smirk turned wicked. "If you're wanting his dick so bad, then I'll just make sure it gets cut off."

She scowled. "If you're planning on helping out that woman to kill him, then decease right now. She'll be as more likely to ki— no, wait, on second thought, try to help her out all you want. The harder she pushes, the stronger my interest's spiritual energy will become. In the end, I'll still come out on top of whatever one-sided toddler match you're planning in that tiny brain of yours."

He stabbed a finger at her face, but held off from touching her skin, lest he lose the appendage. "Bitch... you'll regret pissing me off..."

"Save the temper tantrums for your own time, not mine. Go splash around in your kiddy pool, I have important business to prepare for."

His face was as red-hot as his palace's hot springs, "You... I'll...! Bitch...! Just you wait...!" He leapt off her palace gates and disappeared into thin air, no doubt running back to his oversized playpen to whine.

Not giving his ideal threats a thought, Senjumaru continued looking down at the spot where she'd last sensed the boy's spiritual presence. Whatever the fool would say, give, or teach to that insufferable woman would be no match for this boy's spiritual energy once it fully matured. As for before that time was to pass, he'd just have to survive long enough. A skeletal coming around to pull another lock of hair from her head, she'd spent too much time away from her workshop as it was and turned around to continue her work.

Soon, very soon, all her toil would come to fruition.


	5. Chapter 5

**|V. Rage**

Unohana stared between all of the students gathered for the practice exercise into the human world, lingering not on Jitsushima but what he'd brought along with him. The gate that was to ferry them to the human world open behind her, pulsating harsh blue light, she wondered who authorized someone as big as cow-boy to join the group, and whether he would fit inside the gate or not. It must've been the old man's doing, but what could that domesticated animal do besides act as a lure?

Squinting to get a closer look at the boy, she saw that which she hadn't before—an armband rolled over by his fat. The design on it was of the 4th Division, who were practitioners in the form of Kidō that dealt with healing. Kaidō. Of the three basic classifications, Kaidō was the most useless. When engaging in the art of battle, especially swordsmanship, healing oneself leaves your opponent with opportunities for attack. Craning a finger, she told Shan to come over and explain the meaning of why cow-boy was in their midst. The girl did a quick nod, standing as straight as ever, eyes never leaving her gaze as always.

"Captain-Commander Yamamoto's orders, ma'am. He knows your reputation as 'Kenpachi' is still well founded to be intact. Thus, he's having some of the advanced placement Kaidō students accompany us on the practice exercise."

Unohana's eyes flickered back to Rokuro, then swept over the gathered students more carefully. At least six other students out of the twenty gathered wore an armband. "What of their instructor?"

Shan pursed her lips, a look of contempt visible on her face. "He declined to join. The excuse put forth was that 'two instructors in the human world would cause an abundance of Hollows to converge and endanger the students' lives'. Therefore, he isn't coming."

Cowards. Worse than weaklings. Minazuki hissed at her side and Unohana put a hand on its hilt. "And with only one instructor, the Hollows are less likely to attack us while there?" Shan just stared back hard, mouth clammed shut, face turning red from not wanting to speak her mind out of respect. Of which, Unohana waved it away and allowed her.

Shan bowed deeply. "Thank you, ma'am!" Assuming her full height, she continued, arms at her sides, "I believe that, given the… overwhelming presence… of your spiritual energy, the Hollows are sure to attack us either way."

She let a small hook come to the corner of her mouth, "Is that so?" Her eyes went to Jitsushima briefly. "Then, perhaps the old man was right in sending members of the advanced placement Kaidō class. What do you think, Shan?"

"Ma'am! I am wholeheartedly in agreement with the Captain-Commander's decision!"

Turning to the gate, Unohana couldn't help but touch the scar on her chest. It itched. "When we enter the human world, you will be in charge of keeping your fellow students together. I believe that you have earned that right as my best student."

"I… ma'am…" Shan's mouth agape, she stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then shook her head and bowed deeply once again. "Thank you, ma'am!"

Looking up, the grin that had started to form on her face was now wide. Through this gate was Jun Jitsushima's death, and—by Shan's reasoning—she may not even have to kill him herself after all. If Hollows were sure to assault them, then she'd let them take care of it. And, once she'd rid herself of all the Hollows and brought the surviving students back to the Soul Society, all that was buried shall _stay_ buried.

"_Captain Unohana!_"

That voice. Unohana stifled her excitement and turned, her expression back to one of uninterested glaring. "What is it?" Jun Jitsushima was before her, concern on his features.

"With all due respect, ma'am, with the amount of spiritual energy you possess, you'll be endangering our lives! If you don't have at least one other highly ranked officer accompanying us, then the Hollows are sure to—!"

Her brow became furrowed, "And what gives you the assumption that I cannot keep my spiritual energy suppressed efficiently enough to _not_ prevent that from happening?"

About to retort, he stopped. "Ma'am, with all due respect, you've been releasing a high amount ever since Shan left your side." His turned his head slightly, and Unohana saw the students had all backed a safe distance away from the gate—and her.

Some of them were on their hands and knees from how taxing it was on their souls. Crushed by her overwhelming spiritual pressure, they could only submit to the burden it exerted on their bodies. The ones that hadn't succumbed to its force were stuck frozen, unable to act or approach for fear of getting trapped. The closer one got to the source of the spiritual pressure, the harder it was to move, especially one such as hers. Shan was the closest to her out of them all gathered in a group, but still farther away than Jitsushima.

She went back to the boy in his calm demeanor. If even Shan was avoiding getting anywhere close to her as of now, then how could this boy be…

Her head dipped towards the ground then, hand on her Zanpakutō. Minazuki was howling for blood—for his destruction here and now. To end that which stood before her; the greatly controlled spiritual energy that was strong enough to wade through the torment that was hers. The anguish of the black-stained crimson of her spiritual pressure as she released it, blowing away everything in the vicinity save for him.

"Draw your Asauchi." Sliding her Zanpakutō partially out from its sheath, the proceeding shockwave obliterated the ground beneath her, the boy faltering yet not cowering away. The light from the gate shimmered then dimmed, snuffed out by the blackness of her heart. Yet, this boy, he seemed to glow all the more brighter.

And she would consume that light with the dark of her soul. Here and now, the Hollows didn't matter anymore. Nothing did but the pain that clawed at reaches of her mind and threatened to bring all of it back. That which she had tried so long and so hard to suppress. His blood on the blade of her sword, it couldn't wait any longer.


	6. Chapter 6

** V. Spirit**

"Captain Unohana! Calm yourself, please!" Jun hid his eyes behind the sleeve of his uniform to clearly see her through the chips of stone rising from the once paved ground. Taking a heavy step forward, he struggled against the tsunami of her rage. "You're going to level the whole area if you continue!"

"Draw your Asauchi!"

"Captain Unohana!"

"_Now!_"

"Captain…" He did as told, slowly unsheathing it and holding it out in front of himself two-handed. In doing so, their duel started and he barely avoided her first strike, which struck the ground and blasted out a line of spiritual pressure which split apart the ground. Where he'd once stood was now a chasm, thinning out as it went further away. His eyes darted to Shan, Rokuro, and the other students—if she did another attack such as that one, it would surely kill most of them. Going back to Captain Unohana, he was also sure that it would kill him as well. He had to act quickly.

Molding his spiritual pressure around the blade of his Asauchi, he thrust as if to catch her swiftly in the ribs but veered away in the last moments, shooting past her toward the gate. Though it had dimmed, it was still faintly pulsating—and he had to enter through it before anything else happened.

As he was about to reach it, stepping a foot inside, there was a sharp tug on his uniform that stopped his momentum. Captain Unohana's nails were digging into the skin of his upper back, and he tore himself free, blood streaming, feeling her output of spiritual pressure increase, as he stumbled inside.

It blinded him as he crossed worlds, feeling his spiritual energy lessen. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the journey ended and he came crashing into a crowd of people, knocking them down. Hastily rising to his feet, he couldn't take the time to worry about them as he pushed through the rest and sprinted down the street. The majority of humans wouldn't be able to see a Soul Reaper, or Soul Reaper-in-training, unless they had a considerable amount of spiritual energy of their own. Which, most didn't. The ones that did would at the most see a shimmering outline or—if their spiritual energy was high enough—a crazy man in uniform rudely and recklessly sifting his way through a crowd.

Quickly taking in the surroundings, he saw many paper lanterns of all shapes and sizes. Stands with pottery and other works of art on blankets on the sides of the street. Vendors and vagabonds, adults and children alike. Dressed up, not dressed up. A festival. Overhead, the crackle of fireworks and the booming laughter of celebration. He had to get away from it all, or else—people were screaming behind him and could hear Unohana's blade cutting the air.

Running as fast as his feet could carry him, he made for a dense forest of bamboo stalks, hoping to slow her down as he tried to further the gap between the two of them and the festival. Even so, the bamboo stalks were like butter to her blade and she quickly rendered that plan useless. As she was about to catch him, blade bloodied, he came out on the other side of the forest, into an open field of tall grass and a full moon. Spinning around, he nearly crumbled under the weight of her Zanpakutō, sliding from under her and tumbling.

He saw the murderous intent in her eyes, blade over her head and ready to cleave him down. Only, she was swiped away by a large shadow, sent sailing into the forest and flattening the bamboo. In her place stood that which he'd feared would come—a Hollow.

And, not just any Hollow, but one of Adjuchas classification. Of the Menos classification system, the Adjuchas were the second tier of evolution. Extremely strong, extremely intelligent. Solidifying around him, seeming to tear through the sky as if it were fabric, many white masks of Gillians. The first tier of evolution, their black hands reached out to drag him to Hueco Mundo. He cut them away with his Asauchi as the Adjuchas slowly approached him, appearing to be their leader. Their master.

In the moonlight, its body was like that of a misshapen gorilla, while its mask was twisted and resembled more of a human's facial structure. Eyes yellow, glowing like the light from one of the many lanterns back at the festival. With a large, long fingered hand it went to touch him, only to have it fall away, spraying him with shadowy blood. It howled and reared back, Captain Unohana standing in its place, spiritual pressure so enormous now that the field was reduced to a barren wasteland. Even with the limiters in place that forcibly suppressed her spiritual energy, she was likely to destroy the area if he didn't do something right then.

Ramming Captain Unohana aside, and before she could recover, he released the spiritual pressure that he could and illuminated the area with a blinding light, burning the lesser Hollows and himself in desperation. Three-degree burns covering his body, he stood there as the lesser Hollows crumbled to dust and looked over at Captain Unohana, who had lost a considerable amount of blood and looked to be wavering in her attempt to stand. She collapsed and was lying on her back now, heaving. The Adjuchas had known—perhaps by pure luck—exactly where to hit her to wound her as badly as it had. Reaching out to her, each step he took was like walking on burning embers, the ground charred and what once had been a beautiful field unrecognizable in its destruction. Falling to his knees, he coughed and heaved, bent over. Blood splattered onto the ground, trickling from his mouth.

Wearily looking back up, he saw the Adjuchas had survived his release of spiritual pressure and was slowly making its way towards her. He couldn't let that happen. No matter what her reasons for attacking him, he couldn't let the Adjuchas finish her off. No chance in hell! Using what strength he could muster, Jun sprang to his feet, stumbling with how heavy his Asauchi felt in his hands now. How unbearable the pain was, stabbing his body like thousands of hot needles. He almost there, if he could just... somehow... then he could make it...

_If only..._

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

Vision blurry, Unohana felt blood soaking through her clothes, onto her back, into her hair; the ground a pool of crimson. Her eyes were on the large Hollow as its elongated claw-like hand raised, ready to deal the final blow. Why Jitsushima had knocked her out of the way? If the fool hadn't done that then... he should've cut her down while he had the opening. It'd been the perfect opportunity, but now... now it was too late. Both of them had gotten carelessly wounded. There was nothing she could do to prevent it from killing it, the Hollow having hit her in the same spot she'd been wounded until she bled out to death on battlefield as a human. A spot that still paralyzed her, even when it was no longer there and shouldn't have any affect on her as a soul.

And, yet, here she was, facing her demise by an opponent she should've had no trouble destroying were it not for the wound. The only thing... the only thing she could do now was wait. Not to close her eyes even as it happened, for that was the way of weaklings and cowards. Allowing herself to feel a bit of happiness at not being a coward or a weakling at her second end, she wondered if Jitsushima had taken off already—it was the only option for him there was. He was no match for a Hollow this above his level, the only thing for him to do was ru—

The boy..._ he was..._

_Sūn Wǔ's long, knotted beard hung over the side of the boat as he patiently waited for his fishing pole to move. To show the first signs that the fish were taking his bait. _

_Sitting beside him, leaning out with her face over the water, she watched what fish in the pond there were carefully swim around it, and her brow furrowed. "Why are they doing that?" she asked the old man, his eyes fixated on the string that ran from the end of his pole to the water below. How it reflected the drooping sun's light. "They're afraid!" Pouting, she glared. "Stupid fish..."_

_"No, they're being cautious. Being cautious of an unknown entity, in this case the bait, lets them think. Right now they're deciding 'should I' or 'shouldn't I'? No matter what option they choose, you must not get angry with them, nor call them idiotic. In fact, you should praise them."_

_"Why?"_

_"Why, because they think their options through before going in, and the one who thinks is more likely to survive on the battlefield than the one who only acts."_

_"Oh..." She frowned and looked back down at fish. "So, does that means the fish who don't think before acting are the stupid ones?" _

_"Not quite. I would say..."_

He was standing between the Hollow and her with no weapon. Even though he's no match for it.

_"That they're the braver of the two. Rushing in without worrying about the consequences. They have the confidence to confront their enemies head on. Even if they know they can't win, and that is where their true strength lies. It is their resolve to do what they believe is the right choice, regardless of the situation they're being faced with."_

Despite her condition, she filled with rage once more. This boy... _he..._

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

Even without his Asauchi, if he could just—

"What do you think you're doing you bastard?!" Captain Unohana roared, but he couldn't afford to listen right now, he had to concentrate. "You had the chance to leave!" He could hear how frantic she was, how confused, her voice breaking up. "Why didn't you, you fool?! You... you..."

This was it, he had to catch its hand and direct his spiritual pressure into its body. It howled and he screamed, what felt like a hundred-pound slab of metal cleaving into his shoulder, forcing him to one knee. He had to do it. Releasing his spiritual pressure, he guided it towards the Adjuchas's mask, splitting in two as his shoulder became partially severed from the rest of his body. Falling to his knees yet again, he could still hear her, talking about something having to do with herself, how she'd been wrong about him, about her feelings... or... no, her voice, it was distant. Like it was coming from the exit to a long windy tunnel and he on the other side.

And, soon enough, his body hitting the ground, its darkness consumed him until he couldn't hear her voice any longer.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

Eyes fluttering open, he awoke to a ceiling where hung many vibrant pieces of cloth, the floor littered with pieces of clothing of all shapes, sizes, and types. What wasn't covered was white, pure and untarnished. It smelled, unsurprisingly, of fur and linen. As he lay there, trying to piece together where he now was, a voice seemed to come from all around him. Like an omnipotent god.

"Finally awake, I see."

It was that of a woman's voice. His head turned and he saw her, on a type of throne made from skeletal remains of human arms. Her dress was like that of a Soul Reaper, and over it was a robe, white like the barren spots in the room. Hair black—behind of which she wore a winged headdress that looked like a large golden crescent moon. Pale skin. Her eyes were black with white pupils—not unlike that of a Hollow's. And, yet, the spiritual pressure he felt was unlike that of either a Hollow or a Soul Reaper. It was something… else… Something more…

From her back seemed to appear many skeletal arms that moved individually of another, and she began to stroke her chin with one of them as she contemplated something. "Say," a bony finger pointed to him, "Should you really be trying to move in your condition?"

He looked down at himself then. His body was wrapped in bandages, but any exposed skin that he saw was pink. Almost as if his charred body had molted off to reveal a brand new shell. The shoulder the Adjuchas had hit wasn't partially severed either. Moving the shoulder, he winced but it didn't hurt. In fact, it was better than ever.

"Yes, that fool's healing techniques will do that." The woman was beside him now, with no explanation as to how she'd gotten there. "I can't tell you the details or anything, as I'm not the one who did it. Nor, do I even care." One of her real hands touched his chest—and it was warm. "What, you expected me to feel cold and unnatural? Dead, even?" He shook his head. "In any case, you're here for a reason. You are… valuable…"

He dared to swat her hand away, "Where is Captain Unohana?"

She pouted and crossed her arms, turning away. "A beautiful woman right in front of him and all he can think about is the woman who tried to skewer him days ago?" she mumbled, her skeletal hands seeming to rattle as they shook fists in his direction. Closing her eyes and making a _tch_ sound, she turned back. "She's not here."

"Then where is she?"

"With the fool. Probably still recovering." The woman seemed to slide toward him then, so close now that her extra arms seemed to wrap around him for an embrace. "You really shook her up, the poor thing. With that unusual spiritual energy, it's no wonder why. So perfectly balanced, yet just as likely to tip on either side of the scale." Her fingers seemed to trace around his body, and he realized she was physically touching his spiritual pressure. "Light blue, a very pretty shade."

He grabbed her hand and looked her questionably in the eyes, "Who are you…?"

She sighed, putting a hand to her face. "Does Yamamoto teach you children _nothing_ anymore?" Hand sliding down her face, her eyes narrowed. "I am Senjumaru Shutara of the Royal Guard. It is my duty to protect the Soul King and nothing else. Anything having to do with Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto or the Gotei 13 is not within my jurisdiction. I answer only to the Soul King and nobody else." From the tone of her voice she seemed bored, sounding more like a vendor telling her customers why she couldn't give them a discounted price for what seemed like the hundredth time than a higher authority that answered directly to the King of the Soul Society. "Do you get it now?"

He nodded, slowly, "I believe so, yes. Do you happen to know if I can reach Captain Unohana somehow?"

"No, quit asking."

He shrunk. "Yes, ma'am."

Her hand cupped itself under his chin, "Why you are here is not for any other reason but me. Your spiritual energy, specifically."

"My… spiritual energy…?

"Yes, that's right…" she stopped and blinked. "No, wait, it's not. It's not at an appropriate enough level to where I will have any use for it. So, I implanted a bit of myself into you. Or rather, you have in me. Overtime, through your descendants, it shall grow until it will be at a point where I can effectively harness it."

"What do you mean by—"

"That's for me to know and something you'll never find out."

"Ms. Shutara, not meaning to be rude, but… that doesn't help me."

"Right? This way, the burden of what it is won't trouble you, only those who come after." She smiled, almost cutely, and moved away again. Nodding to a Soul Reaper uniform not unlike her own in the corner of the room, she went back to him, "This is a gift, from me to you. Or your descendants, whichever. They'll probably have more use for it than you, anyway."

"Why would you say that?"

"You'll be long dead by then."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just have this feeling…" Her eyes went back to the Soul Reaper uniform. "The fabric of this uniform was threaded from my hair…" she stopped again, her eyes flickering back, "And if you say anything about why there are tiny amounts of grey, I'll turn you into one the many rugs you see on the floor, am I clear?" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "When I transport you back to the Soul Society, make sure to hide it somewhere nobody but those you trust can find it. Did you get all of that?" He nodded. "Yes, of course you did. Now," she clapped her hands together and the Soul Reaper uniform appeared on his body. "Have a safe journey back. Oh, and don't open your eyes during the transporting process or you may go blind."

As the world seemed to vanish, he heard her voice one last time.

"If you end up _not_ dying, then come here and live with me! I could you use someone like you! It's lonely up here, you know?"

Then, he was back in the Soul Society, lying on his stomach in front of the gate he and Captain Unohana had went through to the human world. The Captain herself was already there, back turned to him.

"Get up," she said. Her head turned slightly as she eyed him with a cold intensity. "If you speak of what happened back there, I will kill you. No… convenient interruptions… with stop me, when that time arises."

He smiled, regardless of her words. She'd calmed down. Watching her walk away, Zanpakutō sheathed, he wondered what the other Royal Guard had spoken to her about. Though, looking down at the Soul Reaper uniform given to him by Ms. Shutara, he felt that, right now, he had to do as she'd told him and hide it. _Post haste._

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

Stomping her way down the hall to her quarters, Unohana had to strongly resist the urge not to reduce everything around her to piles of ash, opening and closing a tightened fist at her side. As came upon her quarters, sliding open the door, her best student was there on the floor. Sitting, waiting patiently for her arrival. Loyal, like a dog.

She bent forward on her knees, not daring to look at her. "Ma'am, I'm glad that you are unharmed."

Ignoring her, Unohana went over to the window and looked out at the blooming cherry blossoms. The seasons in the Soul Society reflected those of the human world, and given that, it was around Spring-time. She inhaled and glanced down at the hand she'd had in a fist earlier; it was shaking. Slightly, ever so. Hiding it inside the sleeve of her Captain's uniform, she continued to stare out the window.

She'd been defeated. There was no other explanation. He had beaten her through a means that only he knew of. With a strength equal to her own. And, she couldn't deny his victory. But, perhaps, maybe it was for the better... She realized then that Shan had been speaking to her the whole time. Something about not being able to help.

"It's… alright…" she replied in a gentle tone. One that she'd never used before, let alone been aware she could be capable of doing. "It wasn't your fault. I'd lost control, but now I'm… better… for it…"

"Ma'am…"

"When your graduation comes," she twisted around, looking upon the girl now, "I am going to have you and Jitsushima become my third and second seats, respectively. I believe that the two of you have earned that right."

"Thank you ma'am! This is a great honor!" Shan's head was touching the floor. "Shall I inform Jitsushima?"

"No, I will do it myself…" She had to. Nobody else.

Despite all of her want to prevent them from surfacing again, one had while she was out. It was another memory of her time with Sūn Wǔ. Unlike the other one, this come had come back in full. The knots in his beard had brought a smile to her young face back then, as she sat in the boat and listened to the ramblings of an old man. Quiet, peaceful. Something she hadn't experienced in a long time.

The way he'd instruct her, while catching fish, on how to properly coax them with bait like a general leading his enemy into a well-placed and well-timed trap. His hoarse laughter at her having caught a bigger fish that he had, telling her she'd learned his lessons well. His patting of her head.

If she could hold Jitsushima closely, talk with him instead of cut him down, then perhaps… maybe… she'd be able to find this type of strength that he'd acquired and Sūn Wǔ had spoke of. Then, once he was her vice-captain, she wouldn't have to be lost in the dark any longer. Wallowing in the despair, drowning in the hatred. There would finally be a light to help guide her through the darkness.

To find out what it meant to have true strength.


	7. Chapter 7

**V|. The Right Choice**

"Why did you not run away?" Unohana asked Jitsushima, after having to ask cow-boy for his whereabouts. "You had the opportunity."

Jitsushima stared up at the tree, facing her in the same garden when she'd first confronted him about joining her advanced placement Kendō class. "I…" His eyes narrowed as he seemed to contemplate, then he looked back down into her eyes. "You're a Captain of the Gotei 13 and the one who recognized a skill with Kendō I didn't even know I possessed. Someone as important to me as that, I can't just abandon them. I… had a chance to save you and I took it. It's as simple as that…"

"Even when I tried to kill you?"

"You mean you aren't trying anymore?"

She chuckled, "Watch your tongue, or I may cut it off." She gazed up at the tree herself. "Back in the human world, the only thing on my mind was ending your life… but upon seeing the strength you exerted, I again can only say how wrong I was in doing so."

"Ma'am…?"

"Jun Jitsushima." Producing a blank vice-captain's badge from her sleeve, she held it out for him to take. "I want you to become my vice-captain."

Accepting the badge, his face lit up in joy. "This—! Are you sure, Captain Unohana?! I-I-I mean… I—! All I did was act foolishly! Surely my actions back there aren't enough to warrant—!"

"I've come to realize that the person behind the act, and not the act itself, is what truly matters. By doing what you did, you have shown me that you have a strength equal to my own—and, you didn't die doing so." Hand on her Zanpakutō, hearing it purr, she let a genuine, faint smile creep onto her lips. "So I also know you're not a weakling like the others. You can take punishment… and give it when the need arises."

"I… I'll do my best as your vice-captain!"

Seeing the inner light burning inside of him, Unohana hoped that one day it could help to ignite the darkness that was hers, and, as she touched the scar on her chest, wanted to encounter the boy who had inflicted the wound once again, but with a new purpose this time. She wanted to thank him, for helping her to feel again. Starting her on the journey that had ignited the sparks that led her to this moment in time, and, next time, she'll show him the true art of killing. For now, though, she was content here, for what was to be a long time.

"How does it feel?" she asked him then as he slipped it over his arm.

"It makes me feel more official, Captain Unohana." He lifted the arm, boldly flaunting the vice-captain's badge now tied around his elbow; dark gold in color, triangular with the 11th Division's insignia etched into its surface. A yarrow flower, representing the 11th Division's will to keep fighting not matter how many injuries are sustained. No matter the danger, fearless in the face of death. That the crossing of blades on the battlefield was the only way to go about living.

A fist tightened, smile twitching, Minazuki letting out a hiss at her side, "Don't get ahead of yourself, you're not my vice-captain _just_ yet."

"Oh, s-sorry! I didn't mean...!" He held up his hands as if to ward her away.

"You're forgiven, but remember this: the next time you anger me, the first thing that goes is your head. That is," she smirked, "provided you can't really go toe to toe with me by then."

"Captain Unohana… if that's what it takes, then…"

"I'll be looking forward to the rest of your progress and that of Shan's as well."

As she turned on her heel and started to walk away, Jitsushima reached out his hand as if to grasp her shoulder but pulled back. "Shan? What does she have to do with…? Ah! Don't tell me—!" Hearing him practically jump for joy, she wondered if the headaches in the future would be worth the patience.

But, glancing back, she knew it was the right choice. She'd found her second and third seat members.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

Second seat. He was going to be the second seat of Captain Unohana's Division. The 11th; the most battle-weary. The ones who were always looking forward to fighting and rarely anything else. Shan was going to be the third seat… No doubt she was thrilled about that.

From the way she admired and was practically the Captain's living, breathing shadow, there was no possible way she couldn't be. Unless, her skills with Kendo were lacking—which they really weren't. To him, Captain Unohana had gone with the right person, as she too must be thinking that someone well-versed in Kido can be just as useful as someone with a sword.

Standing beside her, he couldn't help but feel empowered by her dutifully presence. To do all the more greatly in the tasks which he was most adept at doing. Which, was furthering his control over his spiritual energy and his swordsmanship.

Though, as they did mock duels, with each swing of his sword and every parry of his opponent's attack, he couldn't dispel Ms. Shutara and her words from his thoughts any longer. After he'd hidden the unique Soul Reaper uniform given to him, the more he'd wondered about its true purpose. It hadn't been made for him, but rather his descendants. Which could only mean that she somehow knew he'd have children of his own someday.

If that was the case, then it would be within reason to tell someone about where Ms. Shutara's Soul Reaper uniform was hidden away. Its location. Just in case something were to happen to him down the line, he'd know it'd be in safe hands. Trustful hands.

His eyes darted to Shan and that calculating look of hers that could make even the most reckless of Hollows think thrice about attacking her.

She was the one to entrust something as valuable as this to. No matter what happened to him, she'd see to it that his wishes are carried on. Furthermore, not only would she keep it safe, but well-maintained and in top condition when the time arisen for its usage came about.

He hoped that whatever Ms. Shutara's intents for it were a long ways were off. Glancing in Captain Unohara's direction; her disinterest at the lesson at hand, looking about ready to fall asleep—he hoped it was after he'd helped her to see reason.

To see that violence, and especially blind rage, was not always the way to approach a situation. To help her keep her spiritual energy so finely tuned that incidents like back at the gate would never happen again under any normal circumstances.

Wanting to delve into her soul and help ail her of whatever plagued her heart, he wanted to be by her side. Show her the way; his way.

Whatever had to do to achieve this, he would.


	8. Chapter 8

**V||. Act**

_100 Years Later..._

Down below, their target was within sight. Its description matched the reports given out by Captain-Commander Yamamoto; a small settlement on the outskirts of one of Rokungai's most dangerous wards. The reports had said something unusual was going on here, that people had been worshipping a young man who seemingly had the power to heal any and all wounds if they simply touched him. From how rundown the people here looked, the only miracle Unohana saw going on was that their houses haven't fallen apart yet.

Casting her eyes in the direction that Jitsushima and his team were currently circling around to the back end, she nodded for Shan to gather their team and commence going through the front way. The girl nodded and started whispering orders, thinking this to be some type of covert operation when the only thing Unohana expected to get out of it was wasted time.

Since Jun and Shan had become her second and third seat respectively, the number of these strange tales of this young man's healing powers had started up and had kept increasing, and this small settlement was the last in a long trail of deadends. It seemed that whoever this young man was, he wasn't one for staying in one place for very long. Thumbing Minazuki, hanging from a new shoulder strap that Jitsushima had so cleverly designed, she wanted to pull it out and just reduce the place to nothing, but knew she couldn't do that anymore. Then all of her work trying see things from a different perspective would be for naught.

Motioning Shan over with a tilt of her head, she approached the gate that barred their entry. The girl was as dog-loyal as ever, having increased her Kidō skills to the point where she could be considered near Master Level—nowhere close to being on par with the likes of the higher ranking Captains—but still pretty proficient. She wore her hair down now, as well, which she was silently thankful for. No more obnoxious hairpins. Hand on her Zanpakutō, the girl had also become quite skilled in Kendō as well. Not on the level of Jitsushima or herself, but like with her Kidō, more than sufficient. Of the two, her Kidō skills were the better, and that was where her strength lied.

If she'd have to apply the idea of true strength to her, though, she'd have to say it was her tenacity and quick mind precision. A deadly combination. It was even stronger than Jitsushima's—and that meant something.

Giving a nod, she gave her the go-ahead to announce their presence, hopefully drawing away anyone near Jitsushima's location. Though, after waiting a few moments, there was no response from the other side and she then gave her another nod: the authorization to use deadly force. The young man was wanted at all costs, but the old man had said he wanted, if at all possible, to handle things peacefully. Unfortunately for him, as well as the like-minded Jitsushima, her own patience didn't stretch that far.

Doing as ordered, Shan thrust her hand out and started chanting the incantation for one of the many Hadō spells, _Shakkahō_. Channeling their spiritual energy at center of their palm, the user builds their spiritual pressure until it forms into a red, high-temperature heated orb; crimson in color, like blood. And, depending on the amount of spiritual energy used, the orb can vary in size, as well as its destructive potency.

With Shan's skill, she doesn't even need to chant the incantation of one of the most common spells taught at that old man's academy, but Unohana summarized it must be for any potential people inside. A warning so they wouldn't get caught in the blast.

Charging up the orb to a sufficient size, Shan gave one last warning before she released it, blasting apart the gate, splinters of wood falling like raindrops. Stepping over a piece of the gate, going inside, Unohana looked around. Nothing. Nobody that looked like they belonged, at least. The small settlement was deserted, save for a young man that matched the description given by the old man. Had what she'd seen either been some type of illusion? All the people… there were none to begin with. The only thing she knew was that the young man before her was the one the old man wanted and that was good enough for her.

"You, boy, don't try anything drastic. We're here to take you back with us to..." She stopped. Something... didn't feel right.

Simply standing there, he didn't look surprised by their intrusion. Without a word, he lifted a hand and Unohana told Shan to start placing a barrier in front of them, in case he was going to attack. Instead, the young man spun to face Jitsushima and his team. The fool had ignored her orders and was approaching him! He was too trusting, and she readied her Zanpakutō in case of— _something in the young man's hand started to form. __There was no time for him to react, she had to—! The barrier Shan had put up, it was blocking her! She couldn't—!_

"Get this barrier down _now!_" She looked back to see Jitsushima stagger back, continuing to stand. He was alright, he was ok, once they got to him he'd— _another arrow went through his chest. _"_Shan!_"

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

All she could do was watch. Watch as Jitsushima was brought to his knees, his team being annihilated moments later, the young man… this Yhwach… preaching something about wanting a Soul Society free of Soul Reapers. _No…_ _she wasn't going to just watch. She had to act! _Taking out Minazuki, she told everyone to stand back. _She had to do it. She had to...! _Releasing more than half of her spiritual pressure, ripping apart the barrier and forcing Shan to erect another one to protect the 11th Division members from the aftershock, she filled with the rage she'd been forgoing all this time. Jitsushima was in danger, he was _dying. She couldn't afford to settle this any other way. This... this... brat..._

She was going to utterly destroy him.

"_Bankai._"


	9. Chapter 9

**V|||. Flame**

_The way to peace is only through the previous institution's destruction. By ridding the Soul Society of the Gotei 13 and the Soul Reapers, then it can finally begin a new era. The Soul King's long-held reign… it shall all crumble into dust._

Inside of his skull, he could hear the thoughts of the man before him, even as he was speaking them. Invading his mind, pushing him back. The arrow in his chest, this spiritual pressure… Casting his eyes in Unohana's direction behind a barrier Shan must've put in place, he couldn't let it touch her. He pushed back.

_You're wrong, peace can be achieved just by simply reaching out to others! By destroying them, you'll only further the rise of future conflicts! That isn't peace! _

_That is where you are wrong!_

Being forced to take a step back, he had to tell his team to retreat. This man… he was something entirely different from a Soul Reaper. A force that was darker, something that would bring untold misery, and, hearing Captain Unohana shouting, he couldn't let him go. Couldn't let him get to her and the others. He had to stop him, even as whatever he was hit with another arrow. No, he couldn't fall now, he— his legs, they wouldn't… they wouldn't respond.

_Kneel._

He went to his knees. This man… he was too— _his team._ _He was slaughtering them. He had to do something, or else—_

"Bankai."

Captain Unohana's spiritual pressure exploded with the release of her Zanpakutō's final form, anything it touched becoming corroded from its ability, melting away in a thick, dark red liquid. The look on her face was the same as when she'd tried killing him all those years ago; only, it was directed at the man. _No, she couldn't come any closer!_

"Captain Unohana! Stay where you are!" He struggled to rise, falling onto the ground. No matter what, he couldn't let anyone else be hit by this man's power. "He can steal your spiritual energy! He'll take away your Bankai!" She wasn't listening, ready to surge forward, lost in her fury. "Shan! Put a barrier around the Captain!"

The barrier went up immediately, trapping Captain Unohana in a box-like structure. "Shan! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she then howled, releasing even more of her spiritual pressure, threatening to break out of the barrier and attack everyone in sight, not just the man any longer.

"Captain!" Her attention was brought to him. "Stay calm! You have to get Shan and the others away from here and inform the Captain-Commander!"

"Jun, you bastard! What are you—!"

"Now, get going now! Shan, release the barrier and pull out!" He had to stop him, he had to prevent this man from getting anywhere near them. Seeing him prepare another arrow, he knew it wasn't going to be directed at him, feeling the immense spiritual pressure ebbing off its tip.

"No! This brat! I'll kill him first!"

"Ma'am, Jun's right! We can't stay here! We don't know what he's capable of!"

"Shut up! This—"

"Is the right choice! Captain Unohana, please! Jun is—!"

As the man fired his arrow, Jun thrust out with his spiritual pressure similar to as he'd done with the Adjuchas back then. Being hit with an equally as powerful spiritual pressure, the arrow dissolved and the man turned back to him with rage. He had to end it _now. _Channeling all of the spiritual pressure he had left, he grabbed the man's ankle. Feeling something come into him, he had no time to think about what it possibly was and released his spiritual pressure, engulfing everything in the immediate area in an inferno three times as powerful as the one back then.

The heat searing, boiling, and disintegrating his body down to the bone, his last thought was for Captain Unohana to not give into her anger so easily anymore. And, an apology to Ms. Shutara. It looks like… he wouldn't be able to keep her company… anytime soon...

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

"_Jun!_"

Falling to the ground, it's as if she'd suffered another defeat. A crushing blow far worse than any others. His spiritual presence… it was _gone. _Even as Shan's barrier around her came apart and she was free to do as she pleased again, she didn't have the will to lift even a finger.

"Captain Unohana. Ma'am, we have to go…"

Her eyes like two vacant holes, she looked up at her third seat. "R-right…" Helped to her feet by Shan, the only thing she could do was look back at the ashes. The debris and the soot covering where his body should've been. Yet…

There was nothing left.


	10. Chapter 10

**|X. Strength**

Dead. Jun was _dead._ Nothing was there, she'd felt nothing. Her hand on Minazuki, it whimpered and she tried to sooth it with a gentle caress to no avail. Staring at the tree they'd often come many times to talk with one another, she wanted to feel something.

Angry. She should feel an immeasurable rage because of what happened, but instead it was… something lighter. More peaceful. More empty. Like he was telling her to stay calm, to save her anger for when it really mattered. To not give in to her rage so quickly, to work with it until it was like a sharply honed blade, able to cut cleanly through even the toughest of skin. Her scar, it stung. Her heart, it hurt.

She put her hand on the tree and dug her nails into it. _Why?_ Why hadn't he let her help him? Why did he have to do everything himself like the fool he was? The bastard. _The foolish bastard. _

Her nails started to shred the bark and she relaxed. She had to remember what he'd said. Calm yourself, don't give in to your negative emotions. Fuel them into something else, some other type of emotion that had a more positive outlook. Joy, happiness, love. Any of them would do…

Sadness. She could feel it. In the black of her heart, making it all the more stained. Growing, sprouting until the roots came to her eyes and basked in the light for the first time. Let it out, he'd say; it's alright to cry. That even once and awhile is vastly better than none at all.

That bastard. To have so much of an influence as he did. Just like Sūn Wǔ, the only other she'd actually _learned_ from…

"_What's the matter with you?"_

"_I cut my finger!" She held it up for him to look at it, "It hurts."_

"_Let me see it." Taking her finger between wizened hands, he inspected the injury and put a cloth to it. Cleaning it with water, he wrapped another piece of cloth around it, discarding the other. "Yes, your first battle scar."_

"_Battle scar?" She wiped her eyes and stared at it. It still stung, badly, and she wanted to cry again but stayed her tears. _

"_It's alright."_

_Curling the finger, her lip quivered. "What is…?"_

"_Go ahead. Let it out." He turned in the boat, putting his hand in the water to check the temperature. Flicking drops from his fingertips, he took his pole and put the line in the water. Glancing back at her then, "Even soldiers cry when they're wounded. A warrior who doesn't show any emotion on the battlefield is the same the tools he uses to fight with. To have hatred against his enemy, a warrior must know joy, and to know joy, he must first learn what sadness is. Retsu, don't seal off your emotions or you'll become like a tool used for battle, and that isn't what humans are."_

"_O-ok…"_

She let her tears run free.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

"Vice-Captain Jitsushima was killed?" Sitting crossed-legged in his chambers, the Captain-Commander's face became clouded, long beard like the shipwrecked remains from a harsh storm and eyes typhoons of sorrow. "He was most promising. With time, I'd hoped to see him promoted to Captain of the 4th Division." He leaned forward a fraction, "And you said this young man… he used some type of bow made of spiritual energy?"

"Yes, Captain-Commander, that is correct." Shan, on her knees, focused then on the way his bushy eyebrows drooped over the deep-set darkness of his eyes. Hands on his knees, he sat there in silence for a long while. "Sir, if I may speak…" He nodded. "Well, sir, it's about Captain Unohana. It's the reason I've come to inform you and not her… after what happened… she's been like a corpse…" Shan stared grim-faced at the ground. "So _empty._"

"She's the liveliest corpse I've seen in all my years, then."

Turning around, Shan sprang to her feet as Captain Unohana slide shut the door to Captain-Commander Yamamoto's chambers. "M-ma'am! You're—!" She went to help but was stayed with a raising of her Captain's hand.

Captain Unohana's attention was solely on the Captain-Commander, "Yamamoto, I would like to make a request."

"Speak your mind."

"I would like to become the new Captain of the 4th Division, along with Shan as my Vice-Captain."

"Consider it done."

Shan got up in protest, "Captain! Are you sure this is—"

"Shan, help me by gathering my belongings as I go over the paperwork with Yamamoto."

Frozen for a second, Shan's face lit up, "Yes, ma'am!" She rushed off to do as ordered.

Quickly strutting down the hallway, Shan passed by the practice area where she, Jun, and Rokuro often used to hang around at, seeing a familiar face. Rokuro was standing on it, practicing his Kaido. Thinking of going over to greet him, she tossed the idea because her duty to the Captain came first—everything else was secondary.

As if sensing her devotion like it was a spiritual presence of its own, Rokuro called over before she'd gotten any further down the hall. "I'm third seat! She bumped me up!"

Without stopping, Shan smiled. Captain Unohana had already been making further arrangements before going to the Captain-Commander, knowing she'd be given the transfer. As she heard Rokuro go back to his practicing, there no doubt in her mind that he, too, was determinedly trying to better himself. From now on, she'd have to try her hardest as the both of them, to replace Jun.

It was up to her now.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

"So, he's truly dead, is he?" Senjumaru Shutara rapped her fingers on the arm of her throne, resting a skeletal one on her cheek. She looked from the messenger who'd relayed the news to her, dismissing him, to the table where Jun had laid for a time which seemed like only yesterday. "Such a waste…"

She'd felt the final release of his spiritual pressure even up here in the Soul King's domain. The power in his genes was valuable indeed, and, touching her other hand to the bulge that'd started to form in her stomach, she let a smile creep to her lips. Though, sighing to herself, she didn't know the first thing about raising a child, and, remembering how considerate he'd been to her in their brief time together, she wished that he were here. It truly was such a waste.

Especially since it'd been in vain, as that man was still living. Though, for the time being, worse off. In time, she suspected he was to fully recover and start his crusade anew, but such matters of the Soul Society held no interest for her. It was the Gotei 13's problem, and she had no doubt they'd take care of it… however long it'd last.

Senjumaru decided, then, that this child of hers was to be named Ōbane. It sounded strong, and that is exactly what she hoped this child was going to grow up to be. Immeasurably so. Now, the only problem was her last name…

She expected a great deal from his soon-to-be next of kin.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title:** Heal, My Soul: A Bleach Tetralogy Part 2: Howl, My Spirit

**Pairings:** Multiple

**Rating:** Teen (T)

**Warning(s):** Coarse Language and Mild Depictions of Violence, Character Death

**Recommended Font/Page Layout:** Ubuntu, 1/2, Expand, Light Story Contrast

**Overall Song Choice:** _This Fire_ by The Used_  
_

**Alternative Song Choice(s):** N/A

**Author's Note:** Rated Teen because of source material, deviates from canon, has original characters and altered canonical personalities of (some) canon characters, references to Chinese and Japanese Mythology and historical figures

**Full Synopsis:**

**Part II: Howl, My Spirit**

_400 years have passed since Yachiru Unohana's new position as Captain of the 4th Division, and since then, two other holders of the title "Kenpachi"; the strongest swordsman of their generations. Now, with the third Kenpachi's defeat by the new, young, and freshly graduated fourth holder of the title, a new chapter starts in the tale._

Read and review, but most of all enjoy.

* * *

**Ø. New Addition**

Outside, what counted as the sun in the Soul Society started climbing its way from the depths of the earth, bringing with it an array of yellow and orange. Its light reflected off Unohana's teacup as she sat at the table inside the 4th Division's main chamber, hands in her lap as she stared into its water. There were ripples. Like miniature tsunamis they collided into the white porcelain shore that held them prisoner. Like walls, they prevented the ripples from spilling over onto the wood, thereby ruining its finish.

She hooked a finger onto the teacup's handle, curling it around until she'd secured her hold. Lifting it gently, she took a sip of its warmth just as an explosion reverberated throughout the courtyard from one of the three windows inside the main chamber. Setting it back down, she looked out the window to the gigantic mass of Soul Reapers—all two-hundred members of the 11th Division—gathered in a circle. In its center, and given a wide berth by all present, she could feel the spiritual presence of Captain Kenpachi—the third one since she'd left that title behind—and another that felt eerily familiar. Yet, it couldn't possibly be _his._ From what she recalled, this other presence was only a newcomer to the ranks of the 11th Division. Her eyebrow perked up as a crack appeared in her teacup, just as she was about to reach for it again, the table having shook violently.

They were being too noisy, so early in the morning.

Just then, to her relief, her vice-captain burst into the room, heaving from having needlessly run to tell her the news that the newcomer was gaining the upper-hand in their duel with the 3rd Captain Kenpachi. Closing her eyes at the news, she wondered with irritation whose idea it'd been to give every Captain of the 11th Division the title of Kenpachi as if it were their first name. It certainly hadn't been her doing.

Rising to her feet with a sigh, she hadn't paid much attention to the 11th Division since she'd left it behind four hundred years prior, but knew that the previous Kenpachi before this current one had been hailed as "the greatest swordsman of his generation". Given how long a soul could live in the Soul Society for, she had to sigh yet again at the fool who'd come up with the "generation" bit. More accurate would be to say "century"—or in her case, "millennium".

Shan falling in behind her as she went to go see what the fuss was all about with her own two eyes, Unohana didn't expect much from either of them. Though, the familiarity she could faintly grasp from the newcomer's spiritual presence and the release of their spiritual pressure—she _knew_ it couldn't be possible. And yet, maybe it was. Like a cruel joke that didn't bring anything but that day being played over and over again in her head. The multiple scenarios she'd went through to see if she could've changed its outcome and, in the end, knowing that her musings would bring nothing back. Glancing back at her vice-captain as they came into the courtyard, she wondered if she'd felt any sense of familiarity with the newcomer, but didn't have to ask as the girl—no, the woman—beside her could practically read her thoughts now to a masterful degree.

"The amount of spiritual energy she has is much greater than his ever was. At least, if you compare them when they were both fresh out of the academy." Shan craned her neck, trying to see over the crowd they were now slowly approaching, "And, even then, that wouldn't be a fair comparison as from what I know this newcomer graduated in only three years." Rolling her hip, she adjusted her Zanpakutō. "If you were to take her amount of spiritual energy as of right now and compare it with Jun at roughly the same time-frame within the academy, his was one-third of what her potential right now is."

The crowd parting to let the two of them through, Unohana took note of Rokuro nearby, no doubt ready to help heal either of the combatant's wounds. That is, if both of them survived their little duel. Her focus went back to Shan, her vice-captain securing a space for them at the front. It'd only taken Jun a hundred years to attain enough spiritual energy to reach Captain Level, and this girl was already there. Who exactly was she?

Thanking Shan for her diligent-as-ever helpfulness, she crossed her arms. The members of the 11th Division had given them a wide berth as well and she could clearly see their Captain and fellow member crossing swords with one another. The girl clearly wasn't Jun, but she still couldn't shake that feeling. There was something about her…

Though, as Shan had to erect a barrier around them and the circle of gaping onlookers, leaving the large area in which the two were fighting contained, she knew one thing was for certain: the girl's control of her spiritual energy was far more reckless and bloodthirsty than his had ever came close to. So very unstable. So much, in fact, that she had Shan increase the strength of the barrier by five times. Which, to one such as her vice-captain, was child's play. And, Unohana was much more interested in her recent plans to become a bride than the life-or-death duel before them. She didn't think Shan was the type.

Shan Hinamori.

She had to admit that it had a pleasant ring about it, and that the man she'd chosen was a top pick and all, but hoped that her new status wouldn't cause her to neglect—_no, wait, what was she thinking?_ Shan, bride or not, wouldn't abandon her duties. She was sure of that if there was anything else about her that she wasn't. So busy being lost in the her musings as she'd now begun to do more often as the times went by, that she hadn't realized Shan was speaking to her, telling her that the fight had ended.

"Who won?" she asked, already guessing the answer as she yawned.

"The newcomer."

"Her Shikai is still active."

"I believe she's still basking in the glory of her victory."

Unohana nodded in agreement, seeing the girl raise her Zanpakutō high in air. The crowd had fallen silent, waiting for her to speak, but Unohana wondered if the large grin on her face was glued shut—that is, until she pointed her Zanpakutō at her defeated opponent and called him a piece of shit. Nodding then, she was in agreement with her statement, but thought the girl could have chosen… a better choice of words…?

Shan released the barrier and Rokuro rushed in to provide medical attention, but the man was already dead and, to her chagrin, the girl's wounds were closing up. Slowly enough, though, that extra help from Rokuro was sorely needed. From one thing she knew now of the 11th Division, it was that they didn't hold back in their fights… and that made healing them all the more of a pain.

She touched Minazuki, hearing it purr. If nothing else, this girl was worth a bit of her attention. Especially now, considering her defeat of the 11th Division's Captain would automatically give her the position as per the "rules of becoming a Gotei 13 Captain" the old man had laid down after she'd left and the second Captain of the 11th Division was killed by the now-deceased third. Of which, challenging and defeating the Captain of one's own Division with at least the whole rest of the Division present was the third way. Also, the rarest—and considered by some Captains to be the most barbaric—option, it was now pretty much a staple on "how to become Captain of 11th Division" with this most recent duel.

Not that she really cared. "Does she have a name?"

"Ōbane Koremune."

Ōbane Koremune; a name she'd have to remember from now on. As well as all the headaches it would most likely bring in the future. That is what the title of Kenpachi was now, and, she suspected, this girl was going to be the worst of them all.


	12. Chapter 12

**|. Induction**

Ōbane ripped the bandages from her body as she sat up in what was now her new quarters where all the other Captains slept. Their own private, little rooms where they wouldn't have to listen to the snoring and other nuisances of the main body of their Divisions. She looked around for her Zanpakutō, finding it on the table beside her. Reaching for it, her fingers twitched as she felt it bite back, threatening her to not touch it. The bastard was still resentful of her. It still hadn't given her its name, either.

Not that she really gave two shits.

Looking down at the faint scars along her arms and touching the large one on her back, she wanted to find the third's corpse and skewer it a few times more. Grabbing her Zanpakutō and aiming to do just that, she hastily got dressed and slide open the door to her quarters, only to be blocked from going out by some bitch with a hair bun held in place by a stupid looking pin. Scowling, she tried to move past her, but the woman wouldn't budge, standing there with one hand nonchalantly resting on her Zanpakutō.

"Move." Ōbane growled, already having pulled out her Zanpakutō. If this bitch wanted to fight, she was going to get one.

The woman just shook her head. "Your wounds are still healing. Lie back and rest."

She slide back and raised her Zanpakutō, its curved blade pointing straight at the woman's chest. "If you don't move..."

The woman calmly came forward, knocking her blade to the side with a brush of the hand and taking her by the cheeks. Squeezing them, she forcibly turned it toward every angle possible, then let her go as soon as she was finished. Her attention moved to the rest of her body, and only came back up to her face when she was done looking at her. Ōbane had the tip of her Zanpakutō underneath her chin, pressing gently.

_This bitch wasn't coming onto her, was she?_ "What the f—"

Her next words were taken from her when the woman slapped her across the cheek, making her stagger and briefly lower her Zanpakutō before she quickly sprang back and was about ready to slice her into two when the blade bounced off an invisible wall and instead sank into her own shoulder, drawing blood and pissing her off even more. The woman was again shaking her head, giving a sigh at the new wound.

"Stand still," she said, lifting the same hand she'd slapped her with toward her. Putting her palm to the invisible wall, she made it visible.

Realizing it was a barrier, and a very strong one at that, Ōbane grinned. "Are you scared or something?" Laughing at her, she took her Zanpakutō in both hands this time and raised it above her head. She'd cut through this bitch's barrier and her all in one. Before she could, she was blasted back, hitting another invisible wall behind her. Grumbling, she slashed on either side of her, her blade coming back to cut her body like before. She was boxed in. "The fuck's the big idea!?" she roared.

"I told you to stand still," the woman repeated, her palm now glowing a pale green. Her spiritual pressure was steadily pouring out and it encased the barrier, illuminating her quarters.

And, before she could guess what was happening, the wound to her shoulder closed up, and then the same happened to the other two. Rolling her shoulder, she felt no pain and ran her hand down it, finding no gash. She grit her teeth and looked back to the woman, who had taken her hand from the barrier and was now inspecting her handiwork. Giving a nod of satisfaction, one of the fingers of the hand still resting on her Zanpakutō moved, the barrier fading away in the same instance.

She smiled faintly. "There." As Ōbane stared at her in confusion, the woman pulled out something inside her clothing, throwing it to her. "Wear these." Catching whatever she'd thrown, Ōbane looked down at her naked body. She hadn't even realized... "It's one of Captain Unohana's older ones. Until your official induction ceremony, it'll have to do. You're not supposed have one yet, as you get them during the ceremony, but we can't have you walking around like _that._"

Slipping the Captain's uniform on, Ōbane raised her arm and gawked at how big and loose. Making two clean cuts with her Zanpakutō, the sleeves fell to the floor, now short. Waving her arm and swinging her Zanpakutō a few times, she grinned once again. The standard issue Captain's robes wasn't doing much to hide her still naked body, so she snatched her regular uniform from the table and hastily put it on, rolling up the sleeves and folding them over the former. Looking back to the woman, she sniffed, nodding at her Zanpakutō.

"Fight... me..." she said with a drawl, still pissed. Sneezing, she rubbed her nose as the woman only shook her head for the third time.

"See. Now you've caught a cold." She gave a nod toward her bed, "Lie down."

"I don't have to listen to you! Go screw y—!" Her head snapped back. She came back down with a bloody nose. "You b—" The next punch sent her crashing to the floor. As she started to black out, Ōbane could hear the bitch say something, then another voice—some woman's, another bitch's—deeper voice answer. Trying to rise, she was pressed back to the floor by what felt like a wooden scabbard. When she called whoever held her in place a piece of shit, the scabbard pounded down. She spat up blood, the blow hard enough to break a few rips. The two bitches were now just talking casually with one another, and she gripped her Zanpakutō, ready to slash whoever the scabbard belonged to, but whoever it was just mumbled something and then... a solid crunch as the scabbard hit her upside the head.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

_"Finally."_ Unohana grimaced. Going back to Shan, she slung Minazuki back on her shoulder strap. "Continue healing her wounds. Not that I really care if she's all banged up for tomorrow, but given how she would just be seen as a brute more than she already is, I don't want to have to deal with all the injuries from any fights later on."

"Right away, Captain Unohana." Shan picked the girl up, placing her in her bed and touching her forehead. "What should I do about the...?"

She waved it off, "Just do whatever you feel is necessary."

Leaving her vice-captain to it, Unohana left the new Kenpachi's quarters, thinking of she was going to fare in the coming days. Not well, she assumed. Her mind seemed to be focused on fighting, brawling, and less-than-intelligent scrapes with other Soul Reapers rather than actually being Captain of her Division. Sighing to herself, she really didn't want this girl to be related to Jun, because if she was... no, she didn't want to think of the possibility anymore. The only thing to do now was wait it out and see like she'd already had the mind to do. Maybe, and this was a big maybe, she could ask one of the other Captains or the old man. Perhaps the old man's vice-captain who she never bothered to learn the name of. No... she'd deal with the girl herself. If she was related to Jun, she prayed he wasn't rolling around in his second grave.

**— ΩΦ║ΦΩ —**

Giving each Captain a dirty look as she passed by them to come before the Captain-Commander, Ōbane cracked her nose from side to side, one of the two from the night before having been kind enough to put a bandage over it _after breaking it. _They'd also fully healed her wounds, the scars on her arms and the one on her back barely there. It must have been the one bitch with the bun. Touching the bandages that were wrapped around the side of her head, she really wanted to skewer the other one who had used the scabbard. Whoever that bitch was, she would find her and she would beat her ass.

She heard the Captain-Commander clear his throat, but nothing more than that until he slapped her lightly with his Zanpakutō, telling her to pay attention. Her induction ceremony was about to begin.

"Hereby, I recognize Ōbane Koremune as the ranking Captain of Division 11. Any all Captains would agree this decision, so say 'I' and unsheathe your Zanpakutō," he said, sitting crossed legged unlike the rest of them who all had to stand.

Ōbane turned toward them all in their rows on either side, straight-legged and traditional. _Poor bastards. _All of them, one by one, raised their Zanpakutō and waited until the Captain-Commander had done the same. She thought then that the old bastard only went last because if he stood for too long like the rest he would piss himself. Her grin turned upside down when she realized that if he did piss himself, she would be in the puddle that followed. No damn piece of shit geezer was gonna get piss on her—no chance in hell.

His bushy eyebrows furrowed, and he opened his mouth, but he must have forgotten what he wanted to say because nothing came out for a few moments, "You... seemed displeased. Are you not satisfied with your new position as Captain?"

She scratched her bandaged head wound and looked away, the old bastard's eyes feeling as if they were burning through her skin. "No, I'm... pleased..." she muttered, hand going to her Zanpakutō. _Except this fucking bastard wouldn't her its name __and unleash its full power__. What the shit, weren't they supposed to? Damn, useless, piece of shit, fucking—! _"I'm honored to be the next Captain of the 11th Division." _A __Soul Reaper's best friend, her ass. _

She wanted to hit something.

"Your first duty as Captain is to select a worthy Vice-Captain. Normally, this title would be given second seat in your Division, but the final decision rests with you," the Captain-Commander continued, pointing to a dozen nearly folded Captain's uniforms. "And here are your personal uniforms. You can get rid of the one you're wearing." His eyes darted to one of the other Captains, and Ōbane had followed his surprisingly quick glance to a short dark-haired woman with a loose ponytail wrapped around her neck like a snake. The woman's face pissed her off, and they locked eyes for a moment before the Captain-Commander addressed her again. "I look forward to having such a... colorful individual such as yourself within the 'inner circle'. May your travels always bring you victory as the newest member of the Gotei 13."

On that end note, the induction ceremony was ended, and as she left with her uniforms in tow, Ōbane once again locked eyes with the short dark haired Captain. Judging from the Captain-Commander's look he'd given her right after talking about getting rid of the one she was wearing, this bitch was that "Captain Unohana" the other bitch with the bun had spoken of. If it also turned out this bitch was the one from last night with the scabbard...

She was dead.


End file.
